


Oh, My Beautiful Summer

by filipinosugar



Series: Dumb Feelings During Medieval Times [1]
Category: Cherik - Fandom, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Charles, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Cherik - Freeform, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Eventual Smut, Insecure Charles, Jealous Erik, M/M, Medieval AU, Pining, Protective Erik, Royalty AU, Slow Burn, Some angst, Top Erik, UST, but a lot of marshmallow fluff too Fluff, but i promise this is really good because they’re both so Stupid, but please give me a chance, everyone here is extremely tired of how stupid erik and Charles are being with their feelings, i made 95 percent of this shit up i don’t know how to tag, like heavy smut, moira is a bamf point is, my kink lol, no one is emotionally constipated but damn they Slow, royalty erik, servant charles, shaw isn’t much of a dick here, so stick around
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 04:13:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10631958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filipinosugar/pseuds/filipinosugar
Summary: Or: Several instances where Charles and Erik are being dumb with their feelings but this time, set in Medieval Times.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fic so, be gentle. And I’m not 100 with where this is going but trust me, it’s going somewhere. It’ll have several parts.
> 
> I have no one in my life so no beta for this one, all mistakes are mine as the characters and names aren’t.
> 
> Titles are from Birdy’s songs. Because she is Bomb.
> 
>  
> 
> I wrote this in one sitting and it's 1 in the morning, give me a hug goddamn it

  


The night was fierce with its harsh wind but the air was thick and heavy inside the cleaning deck, the aftermath of workers going back and forth to serve hundreds. 

Hundreds of gold-wrapped women and camel hair-draped men who needed their fruit bowl with precisely 8 seedless grapes.

Not a grape more, not a grape less.

That is, if you don’t want those grapes and the rest of the bowl’s contents smashed on your head and be another source of the night’s entertainment.

One must’ve served at least once and only once to know to never practice your luck, to test any of them. And one gets a chance every week where this kind of celebration never seem to end.

Charles would know.

He can still feel the thick pig’s blood running down his neck from time to time.

  


  


Every fifth day of the week, before the sun disappears behind the festive holding hills, a gathering takes place. 

It doesn’t matter whether the Genoshan Mentai Castle gets populated to its very core that the servants had to start setting up and spreading out at the holy gardens or if only half a table’s worth of guests arrive because the very second the orange sliver of light from the biggest star this world can see fades into black, every single one is in place.

Something of which Charles has failed to adhere to this evening.

He rushed towards the servants’ station to hang his cloak and give himself a little more time to prepare for what’s to come. For what she’ll have him do for the rest of the night.

He prays he'll have Moira catch him instead and they can proceed with their well-practiced rouse of pretend-punishment in front of a little crowd just to have it spread and reach the headmaidens.

  


Granted, this wasn’t the first time he dismissed the value of time when his priorities were set on his family. The gods knew it won’t be his last as the lambs offered to them are certain, Charles has no regrets. 

Would do and pay every damned night if only to bring everything back.

But Raven told him to do it after his responsibilities, that tonight was an “ _easy night_ ”.

Unlike last weekend when she struggled to keep the tears from her eyes joining in with the water she used to wash the drying blots of red away.

 _A few hours is a few hours, brother_. She touched his cheek, rubbing her thumb just under his eye.

He smiled and turned to leave, promising that he, too, will take it easy tonight.

But they both knew it wasn’t that easy. He will never let himself have the luxury of forgetting how every minute, every second that passes was on him.

His hands won’t stop shaking and he blames the cold.

  


  


As Charles focused on steadying his heart, rapid beats caused by the inhuman and possibly embarrassing sprint that took place merely minutes ago, he practiced the words he was to use.

 _Start with apologies,_ dear father always advised. _Start with apologies and only explain if asked, never question your punishme_ —

“You!” Charles spun around in such a speed that he managed to knock down his belongings, almost taking down the shelf with it. The chains and bag of coins making so much noise against the stone floors that they almost matched the headmaiden’s voice. “Where in the gods were you?” 

Charles dropped to his knees and made a quick work of picking up his things, hoping a copper penny didn’t roll away from sight.

“I—I’m terribly sorry, Ma’am. I was just—the time, I didn’t think it—”

He was trying to make himself as small as possible, apologizing profusely. Something people in his position were conditioned and trained to do.

“Ma’am, please, I’m— I beg you to understa—”

“Every hand was needed tonight,” She hissed, walking closer and closer. “King Malcolm of Epimhan had his goat’s meat roasted four times. Do you hear me? Four _bloody_ times! Scoffed and snickered at every serving and had us return to the kitchens and do everything all over again. Duke Felis drank his weight tonight and you know how that old man resembles the cow he uses as a cape. Madman threw up all over the palace!”

The headmaiden continued to ignore his pleas and went on for minutes more as Charles kept his head down, still on his knees. Didn’t even dare show his frustration in any way but through his knuckles turning white.

Even with that, he tried to hold back fearing for the consequences.

“We needed everyone tonight. Everyone,” She crouched low enough to grab a hold of Charles’ jaw and roughly levelled it with her face. “even as small and _pathetic_ as—”

  


“Well, I personally thought tonight was grand,” A voice cut through the headmaiden’s that it instantly made her eyes wide and body stiff.

The headmaiden didn't dare move an inch. Didn't dare let a sweat drop.

“Close to perfect, even” Charles slowly raised his head to meet the speaker's voice.

Charles struggled to keep his lips from moving at the corners. He would recognize that voice anywhere.

  


He hears it every single day.

  


~

Wiping down the tables after the lords’ first meal, “Missed a spot”.

Charles ignored the comment with a smile that he tried to hide by moving onto the next table.

Charles never misses.

For almost a decade’s time of service and for the lack of anything to actually brag about, he prides himself of being thorough and efficient. He once even received extra bread in one of his meals from the headmaidens just because he left both the dining hall and the kitchen spotless.

Something that needs about three workers to be accomplished.

And yet, there he stood. In front of a missed spot.

The sound of heels from heavy boots echoed through the room. Stopping just beside him.

“You just never listen, do you?” The smile could be heard from that alone. If it was somebody else, if it wasn’t Charles who was at the receiving end of that, one would be on their knees, begging for their life. But this wasn’t just anyone. “Give,”

Erik waited patiently with his hand held out, knowing this game all-too-well.

Charles stood his ground.

Erik didn't move a muscle.

Their eyes never leaving each other's.

And so is Charles' frown to Erik's mischievous little smirk.

_I don't know how you did it, but I know you did it_

Erik didn't respond but the way the corner of his lips twitched proved that he heard it.

They stood there for a few more minutes, unrelenting. Until, as always, Charles gave in.

Showing all of those glorious teeth that Charles definitely doesn’t want felt on every possible inch of his skin, when he all but finally threw the dirty cloth towards him.

Charles stood in silence with his arms crossed over his chest as the Prince of Genosha, soon-to-be King, scrubbed at the tabletop where, much to his utter annoyance, had a smudge of black.

A black smudge that he was certain wasn’t there before, a black smudge of something he couldn’t identify and couldn’t possibly be from whatever the lords had eaten that morning.

If Charles wasn’t too busy looking at the entrance of the Lehnsherr’s main dining hall every 5 seconds in fear of being caught and reprimanded, he would be sweating a well’s worth just by the view.

The view of his definitely-not-crush-of-over-10-earth-rotations bent over in front of him, showcasing a set of straining muscles caused by a suspiciously tight grip of the rag.

The Prince walked out with a smug look on his face and a reminder for Charles to _use those eyes for more than just rolling them_ thrown over his shoulder.

And if anyone noticed the lingering smile and permanent flush on Charles’ face the whole day, no one said a thing.

Charles would’ve blamed the sun.

  


  


~

Greetings he was sure he wasn’t an exception to.

No matter what Sean and Alex say.

And Scott.

“Listen, all we’re saying is, we clean the man’s horse shit and we don’t even get a nod of gratitude.” Sean says as he placed the linen he finished folding onto the pile he claims to be worthy to be brought back to their masters just to have Charles begrudgingly but patiently refold them properly himself.

“You just catch him at a bad time” He shrugs and tries to defend because even though the thought of the Prince giving him that little special treatment, makes his insides swirl, he can’t allow himself to hope.

“Everyday” Alex deadpans.

“Well, he goes to the city everyday for his training, right? It wears him down and obviously that can make one a little grumpy—”

“ _Grumpy?_ Charles, he—Prince Erik goes to the left wing, the _servants’_ wing everyday just so he could walk by you and say,”

Alex went to clear his throat. “Good morning, Charles” and made a show of closing his eyes and doing a little bow. 

At the corner he heard Scott snort and Sean went to give Alex a fist-bump. “Nice,”

“Well he didn’t do that today. You all should know, we’re stuck with laundry duty all morning.” Charles tried to hide the disappointment in his voice. Proving a point to these buffoons was miles better than any false observation.

No matter how much he preferred the latter to be true.

Charles breathed in a heavy sigh and said, “Can we just try and finish up early? We still need to change all the sheets from the royal quarters.”

Sean and Alex looked at each other but said nothing.

  


The rest of the morning went smoothly. The four of them managed to finish almost everything just before lunch with only one room left.

The one Charles is currently in and working on. The one everyone except himself agreed to tend to last. The one no one is helping him with.

And the one he’s unsurprisingly, depressingly all too familiar with.

Erik’s.

Charles tucked the corners of the prime red linen sheet carefully. Ran his palms on top to even the flow out. And daintily placed Erik’s favorite grey-wolf fur threadings at the bottom part of the bed.

  


He was just about to leave when the doors slammed open and in enters a happy and loud Erik.

A happy and loud Erik with his arms wrapped around the Princess of Kvolspin, Magda, whose lips were red and swollen.

The second Erik’s eyes laid on him, he went impossibly stiff.

And if this was a different time and if Charles’ eyes weren’t burning at the sides, he would’ve found it hilarious how Erik almost let Magda fall to the floor.

But this was now, and all he can hear is the clashing of million little pieces his breaking heart is producing.

“Charles—”

He was about to take a step towards him but hesitated when he felt Magda's eyes on him.

“My apologies, your Grace.” Charles quickly grabbed the used sheets, looking anywhere but them. "The sheets are fresh.”

Uncaring how he choked the last word out, he's relieved that his lips were even able to let something out more than a cry.

Something he'd very much want to do right now.

Something he's pretty damn sure he'll be doing all night.

Erik was about to open his mouth again and take a step towards him but Charles lowered his head and ran for the door.

  


If Magda noticed the forced smile on Erik's face after telling her he enjoyed her company and would very much like to see her again and not hear from him since, she didn't think anything of it.

But when she sees Erik walk towards the left wing the next couple of days consecutively and leave with such a broken expression each and every time that the metals that crowned the castle were browning in rust, and barely glanced her way when she tries to talk to him, she felt as if she's overstayed her welcome.

When she finally sees Erik again, it's three gatherings after. It's the first time she's ever heard him laugh that brightly.

It's when she decides to approach him, thinking tonight would be a good chance to finish what they started.

She's only a feet away when she stopped, seeing him with one of the servant boys who she roughly recalls as the one who interrupted what could've been such a glorious night.

In breath's take, her mind was suddenly filled with a warm wave of profound emotion and she stopped in her tracks.

It only took a second for a sense of unnerving guilt and sudden realization to seep into her veins.

 _Love_.

She cursed under her breath, knees going weak as she held the wall nearest to her for balance.

The emotion was so strong that she can almost taste it. So strong that she can almost pretend that it was from and for her.

Glancing back, it was clear that it wasn't.

Before the first servings were even distributed amongst guest, she was already half way through the woods on her way back home, tears mixing with the air.

  


Once Charles was out, he paused, seeing his friends all waiting outside.

Their expressions cloudy through his rapidly blurring vision but clear enough to see the tightening in Alex’ jaw and the furrow of Sean’s brows.

He looked away and pushed the sheets towards them. Scott touched his wrist in the process but Charles just whispered a broken _Told you_. And walked away. 

When he woke up the next day, half of his duties were already finished.

  


  


~

“Smells good,” Charles close to jumping and dropping the herbs, having only turned away from the pot a fraction of a second to suddenly have the Prince hover behind him, leaning just maybe a tiny bit too close to his left, feeling the air move between them as said Prince breathes in tonight’s supper. 

Charles stutters out his thanks as Erik turns his head the slightest, nose almost directly against Charles neck, and smiles. “Can’t wait”

Taking everything in Charles to not offer him a taste.

Of what, he wasn’t entirely sure he’s allowed to voice.

  


  


~

“And be brutally honest,” that voice will say, raising both hands holding two almost identical blue strips of silk in each.

Erik would claim that one is a shade darker than the other and that he genuinely needs Charles’ opinion or else he will go out in town with what he wore when he came upon this earth.

Charles sputters and hides the warmth slowly showing on his face by turning around towards Erik’s closet and pretend-picking different fabrics, considering with a clear of his throat. Pointedly thinking of anything but Erik in that sense and how he managed to piss off every god he grew up praying to because honestly, _why?_

The same goes for picking a leather tunic to go with it.

Erik insists he try on everything. 

And the treatment doesn't change with the choosing of surcoats, his belts, goldbands, chains, and shoes.

Yet, Charles helps him every time.

  


  


~

Any other servant would do but whenever Emma needs Charles, it’s Erik who comes and fetches him. Comes, fetches, _and_ delivers him to Emma.

Charles would be too busy with preparing Emma’s bath with oils and petals for him to hear Emma’s heavy sigh passing through quirked lips, “ _Really_ , Erik?” and her laughter that follows after Erik childishly knocks the candles off of Emma’s vanity and stomps off.  


  
  


~

Collecting flowers for the Queen.

“Get more of the yellows, she loves them” quick and out of nowhere that when Charles looks from where the voice came from, the owner of it was already walking away with his hands clasped on his back, lips humming a made-up song and looking at the sky.

Just like any other afternoon stroll.

Charles would roll his eyes, but, somewhere just a couple of crops away, Logan would see that the lower lip Charles bit to hide his smile had more intent than his eyes. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and went back to the soil he was tending, _something_ , Logan thought, _that actually had a chance of growing_.

  
  


~

And it didn’t stop there.

Even in the simplest of most expected things from someone with Charles’ low echelon.

A servant refilling his master’s drink.

But no matter the 2nd or 6th time, words of thanks will always _always_ follow.

 _Thank you, Charles_ Erik would say with his fingers that never seemed to fail in touching Charles’ _every_ time he gets the cup from him. Slowly going as far as the back of Charles’ hand with his palm covering it whole and sliding it to his fingers.

Charles might be imagining it but the warmth of Erik’s hand stays. Even when he rushes out to the bitter cold of the forest.

  


  


~

Or when the gods (and his superiors) were on his side and the day went easy for Charles with his duties finished earlier than usual, Erik waits at the terrace with a game. Through it, they exchange whispers of today’s adventures and consciousness.

A detail never too small or irrelevant for Charles.

Everything stored and hidden, the one thing he allows himself.

  


~

And of course, at nights after the third bell has been rung, telling the servants that it’s a minute left to lights out with one of his hands fisting himself under the sheets, the other keeping his mouth from screaming a certain prince’s name, and his thoughts making him dream of that familiar voice whispering in his ear that _it’s okay,_ that he can feel whatever he wants and that he’s being _so good_.

  


  


~

His voice has become a simple welcomed sound his ears have grown accustomed to, grown quite tenderly fond of.

~

  


The headmaiden still had her hand on his jaw but her grip was starting to loosen and her voice, shake. “Yo—your Highness,”

Charles looked over her shoulder just to have his eyes locked with Erik’s. Another thing he would recognize anywhere.

Just like his favorite fur threadings.

“Charles,”

  


**Author's Note:**

> this is far from over.


End file.
